"Is she here yet?"

Martha looks up at me from her computer. Her face turns pale as she tries to put together my words into context. She has been working for the company for twenty years now, and no matter what promotion I offer her, she is satisfied with being my personal receptionist. The woman is kind and generous beyond anything, but she is also freakishly scared of me all the time.

The few times she heard me scold my employees during meetings didn't help with that.

"Who, Mr. Drake?" she asks, pinching her eyebrows as her eyes take on a look of thoughtfulness.

"Miss Cynthia Lucas. She goes by Cynth."

Even her name has a taste on my tongue. How is that even possible?

"I don't know, Mr. Drake," Martha sighs, standing up from her chair behind the counter. "I didn't see anyone come in today, and even if she did, she won't have an ID to enter this part of the office."

Yeah, she won't. I forgot about that.

Rubbing my jaw, I look at the clock behind Martha, which reads 9 o'clock. Surprisingly, instead of feeling happy at the fact that she has managed to disappoint me by being late on the very first day itself, I find myself hoping that she will come. There is something about that girl that makes me love the way she gets on my nerves. I like playing the cat to her mouse. It would have been fun if the game had lasted longer.

Disturbed by the thoughts, I start to pace in front of my cubicle, one hand on my hip and the other caressing my stubbled chin as I keep looking at the glass doors. There is no sign of her.

"One interview and she's already got to you, brother?"

I turn at the sound of the voice. My brother, or more like my mirror, Reece, is leaning against the wall beside Martha's semi-circular counter. He is dressed in a black button-down and jeans, his one foot resting against the wall as he crosses his arms over his chest in amusement.

Unlike Cynthia's pretty face, his manages to piss me off within seconds, and the fact that he is my identical twin who looks every inch like me pisses me off even more.

"Shut up," I growl at him, taking another look at the double doors. "What are you doing here?"

"Sarah called and said that a new employee was joining. I didn't want to miss your first interaction." Reece smirks, turning to Martha. "What do you think, Martha? Won't it be a show?"

The fifty-year-old lady just shrugs, ignoring his presence as she focuses on her computer screen again.

"Leave, Reece. No one wants you here. It's too early to go pissing people off."

As I rest my hands against the steel railing, peering down to see any sign of my new assistant, my brother walks towards me leisurely, hooking one finger in a pocket of his jeans.

"Try to be warmer, brother," he says as he rests his elbow on the railing and leans against it. "Sarah also said the girl's pretty. Maybe she's the one for me."

I move my eyes to him at his words, seeing in them the absolute fun he is having while toying with me.

"She's an employee, and you'd better keep your hands off her if you wish to remain with your limbs intact," I warn him.

He looks at me gravely for some time and then begins chuckling to himself. "So was Jeannie, brother. You had no problem bending the rules for her."

I clench my fists at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. Jeannie was the one who cut off our last thread of brotherly affection for each other. I know that no matter what Reece pretends to feel, he still feels violated by that night.

Before I can reply to his taunts, the double doors open. I jerk my head towards it, sighing in relief when I spot the familiar face of Miss Lucas stepping inside. She is in plain clothes, looking as professional as any of my other assistants. But unlike them, I find myself completely taken over by her look.

Wearing a deep red pencil skirt and a white blouse, she has her hair down in smooth waves, the length of them reaching her waist. Her lips are a deep red, the same color she wore yesterday during the interview. For someone I am supposed to despise, she is making my job rather difficult.

In her hands, she carries a Starbucks cup, a folder, and a large handbag. She stops when she sees us standing before her, her doe-wide eyes moving between my brother and me. She looks confused about which one is her boss, I guess.

"Miss Lucas," I say gravely with a voice I know she would relate to no one but me. "You're late."

Miss Lucas looks at me from Reece, her eyes twinkling with recognition.

"Good morning, Mr. Drake." She beams at me, walking three steps until she is craning her neck to look at my face. "Here's your coffee and here's your schedule for today."

She hands me the Starbucks cup and opens the folder. Her hands shake as she balances the file on one palm, flipping through it hurriedly. From the corner of my eye, I see my brother's eyes ludicrously moving down her body. He notices me watching and throws in a smirk.

"Miss Lucas..." I clear my throat, making our new employee gaze up at me from the folder.

"Yes, Mr. Drake?"

"You're late," I repeat.

She blinks, her eyes flickering to my brother again before settling on me.

"I'm not, Mr. Drake," she says, shutting the file as she stands with her determination firm on her face. "You must be mistaken."

I take a look at my watch and lift my wrist to show her what I am seeing.

"It's nine o'clock, Miss Lucas. You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes earlier."

She narrows her eyebrows, her full lips twisting to a soft frown.

"I was half an hour early, Mr. Drake. I came even before you did," she informs. "I didn't have the ID, so they stopped me at the gate and then stopped me again from entering here. After confirming with your manager, Mr. Khan, I was told to start my task asap by bringing you your coffee and entering your schedule neatly in this file. Only then was I allowed to enter here."

We all stand in silence. Even Martha's clicking on the keyboard stops as she stares at the girl while lifting her glasses over her nose. I do the same, adjusting my glasses and then trying hard to maintain my scowl at her.

"You should have sent Khan to inform me of your arrival, Miss Lucas, instead of being so irresponsible."

"Irresponsible?" She repeats in disbelief. "Did you really expect me to fight with your manager on my first day itself? What kind of reputation would I have had if I didn't give him the respect he deserves for working with someone like you?"

"Someone like me?"

"Yes," she begins. "Managing an obnoxious, unpleasant, and absolutely self-possessed billionaire must be quite the task for him every day. By the way you behave with people, you need to...oh wait a minute..." She stops and turns to my brother before continuing. "Mr. Drake, I suppose you're one too...Does the company policy state anything against voicing our opinions against our bosses?"

Reece looks at me with a wry smile before he focuses his attention on her.

"Nothing of that sort, Miss Lucas. May I introduce myself, however?" He takes a step towards her and extends his hand for her to shake. "I'm Reece Drake. I'm the twin of this jerk here. I hope you and I will get to see more of each other."

My nerves flare when I see Miss Lucas blush before she takes his hand and gives a shake.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Drake."

"Just Reece will do," he corrects her. "I myself am an employee of my brother. I'm the draftsperson."

"Oh." Miss Lucas looks impressed, not bothering that my brother hasn't let go of her hand still. "In that case, you can call me Cynthia, too. That's my name."

Reece smiles. "Nice to meet you, Cynthia."

As they stare at each other, I am left even more irritated than before.

"Enough." I break the abysmal conversation, pulling my brother back by his arm and letting him let go of Miss Lucas's hand. "Follow me, Cynthia. Let me give you a tour."

She murmurs an apology to Reece as she struts after me. I open the door to my office and hold it open until she steps in. Giving my brother one last glare, I shut the door behind us.

Facing Miss Lucas, I find her holding her folder against her chest as she looks around the room. From here, I can't help but follow the light from the glass wall behind when it shines over the curve of her bare legs. Her skin looks so soft, impeccably perfect. My eyes scan their movement upward, taking in her wide hips and waist until they move towards her breasts. But before I can lose myself in admiring them, she clears her throat, making me look at her face instead.

Embarrassed at having been caught checking her out, I rub the back of my neck hastily.

"Over here..." I walk past her to the other door, which opens to her own cubicle. "Have a look."

As I stand holding the automatic door wide open for her, Miss Lucas stares at the space between my body and the space left for her to enter. She swallows a gulp as she proceeds toward me, turning to the side and sliding against my body to enter the room instead of asking me to move away.

While she slides between me and the door, her chest brushing over my shirt, my free hand curls into a fist, and I bite my bottom lip, trying to ignore the need to touch her.

Damn. I'm attracted to this woman too fucking much.

The attraction has only grown since last night. If she were any other woman, I would have made the first move by now and had her between my sheets as I fucked her into oblivion. I feel the rush of blood to my cock just as a vivid imagination of Miss Lucas naked between my sheets entices me.

"Mr. Drake?"

I break out of the imagination when she clears her throat again, only to find her already inside her small L-shaped cubicle. It is a plain room with no furniture other than her desk and a succulent plant beside the door. I hope she finds it comfortable. My last assistant had many useless complaints, one of which was why the color of the walls wasn't purple.

"Is everything to your liking?" I ask her, still standing outside.

If I enter, the space between us would diminish, and right now, I feel horny enough to not make her uncomfortable with the sight of my bulging front.

"Yeah, it's nice," she replies and then places her bag and folder on the desk. "You left something at my apartment yesterday, Mr. Drake."

She opens her bag and takes out a very crinkled version of my suit from it. Without looking me in the eyes, she hands it over for me to take.

I stare at the crinkled piece of fabric and then at her, unable to believe her. Hesitantly, I take the suit from her hand, dangling it before my eyes to see how it has been destroyed.

"You could have at least dry-cleaned it."

"I thought about that but..." She looks at the floor. "It's an Armani suit, and I didn't have the money to dry clean it. Besides, I didn't ask you to leave it with me. You did that yourself."

"I was making you comfortable!"

"Well..." she coos. "I'm sorry, but you shouldn't have. Thanks for helping me last night, but I can't be doing unnecessary spending until I get my salary, which you promised you would once these thirty days are over, Mr. Drake."

"You've got money for drinks at the bar but not to dry clean stuff?"

She looks offended by my question. Her nose scrunches up as she throws a disgusted glance at me.

"My roommate paid for the drinks," she answers. "Half of my stuff is borrowed from her. I spent my last savings on the apartment because-" She stops herself from blurting out the interesting part of her narrative. She shakes her head, dismissing whatever she was about to say. "Forget it, Mr. Drake. You may cut the cost of the dry cleaning from my salary next month. I won't mind."

My jaw hardens at her excuses. She has managed to disappoint me finally, but this is the kind of disappointment I can't hold against her in a professional sense.

"Take a look at your routine, Miss Lucas. You've only thirty days to call this place home."

She gives a broad grin as I release the door of her office.

"Thirty days is enough for me to redecorate it, Mr. Drake," I hear her say before the door shuts with a soft click between us.

As soon as Mr. Drake retires to his own office, I exhale a much-needed breath. Leaning against the desk, I hold a hand to my heart, feeling its fast rhythmic beats.

I would have been late, just as Mr. Drake had predicted. However, my best friend was kind enough to reach home on time, and she ended up crashing a vase near the door in a drunken state. I jumped up, and my sight fell on the clock. Muttering a string of curses, I managed to get ready as soon as possible before rushing here.

I don't even want to imagine what would have happened if I were late. Forget Mr. Drake; he would have skinned me alive.

I move my body behind the desk and take a seat on the revolving chair while shaking. I lean back in the chair and take a deep breath, shutting my eyes for a while.

My life has changed drastically in a few days. If I have to right the wrongs of my father, I have to do this job. Even if I want to or not.

I open my eyes and take a look at my surroundings. My cabin is a small L-shaped room with the walls painted in beige and white. There is a window behind my back that lets in an ample amount of light from the outside for daytime work. The room has a sweet scent and a plant by the door.

My desk has its materials properly arranged, along with a computer that is open to the company's logo. I stare at the screen blankly, a sudden kind of excitement getting my nerves.

This is my office. I have a job, and I am about to work on an expensive computer. My years of education have finally paid off.

I turn the device on and check for the files that I need to work with. Opening Mr. Drake's schedule after closing the other tabs, I scan it for an overview. The length of the table makes my eyes widen, and I keep scrolling until I reach the end, where his schedule for today is marked, but the next column is blank for me to fill in.

His job runs from 9 am to 10 pm. The schedule even consists of cells timing his gym time. For a guy with a tremendously tiring business to run, it surprises me that the man manages to find time for workouts too. He doesn't skip them, though; that I can conclude from one look at his body.

I make a note of the way his schedule is arranged, quickly memorizing his daily essentials and the format in which they are stored. Apparently, I have to keep a physical copy with me every day in his personal file before he enters the office, as Mr. Khan has asked me to do.

A sudden ringing sound makes me flinch. Looking around, I spot a tiny bell-shaped thing on my table, which is ringing like a doorbell. It is a bright, little object which is extremely shiny and twinkles in the light. Confused by its sharp ring, I searched for something that would turn it off. Finding no switch anywhere, I try to slap it shut, but it keeps on ringing. Another careful look makes me see that it is not a real bell but a device installed on my desk itself.

After speculating for a few seconds, I hear the heavy sound of footsteps coming from Mr. Drake's office. As I watch, the door opens, and my boss's scowling face pops in. He arranges his sexy glasses over his nose and looks at me sitting quietly behind the desk, then at the bell, which has now stopped ringing.

"Miss Lucas, that bell has a purpose," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I assure you I have been trying to find it, Mr. Drake," I counter curtly.

He gives me a threatening glare. Holding the knob on the door tightly, he clears his throat.

"The ring of that device means you have to come to my office," he explains. "I'll excuse this for today, but next time, remember to politely ask me when you don't understand stuff."

Embarrassed at not having guessed that purpose before, I nod to him. He rolls his eyes and disappears inside his office, leaving me to follow behind him.

When I enter his office, I am greeted by the sight of dark grey walls, a black couch on one end, and Mr. Drake's white desk on the other. The glass wall behind him makes his room appear brighter and larger than mine. On close observation, I realize that it is larger than mine.

"Miss Lucas..." he begins when I reach his desk. He shoves a large number of stacked files towards me. "Search through the digital copies of these documents on your computer and update the dates to the present, then send those digitized versions to me. I need them urgently."

My jaw drops as I look at the number of files.

"All these?" I ask.

He gives a small smirk at my question and clasps his hands underneath his chin. His blue eyes spark with mischief behind his sexy rectangular-framed glasses. The look clearly says that he is playing with me.

"Why? Is it too much? Are you ready to give up?"

Annoyed by his words, I force myself to maintain a thin smile on my lips as I pick the files up, the load of them causing me to stumble a little.

"Not at all. I'll have them ready by afternoon," I tell him before starting to head back towards my office.

I try to push the door open, but it stays shut, moving only an inch before closing back. The jerk behind the desk watches me, amused at my failed attempts, before I see his handsome face break to a low chuckle.

Still laughing at me, he gets up from his seat and strides towards me to hold the door open with one hand.

"There you go, Miss Lucas." He leans against the wall beside the door, his hand holding the door open high above my head.

"Thank you, Mr. Drake," I say as I huff and proceed inside my office under his arm.

His eyes challenge me as he stares, which somehow manages to make my stomach drop because he looks like a young Clark Kent in an Armani suit. I wish he weren't so handsome. It would have made my job a lot easier.

"I need the files on my desk by lunch," he instructs once I am inside the office.

"They will be ready by then."

We stand there provoking each other with our blazing stares as he lets the door go, and it shuts on itself.

***

After spending hours breaking a sweat and burning the morning oil, I finally managed to get the task done by noon. As I walk with the files back to Mr. Drake's office, I find him already waiting for me because his gaze stays fixed on the door. Holding my head high behind the stack of files, I drop them on his desk with a thud.

"Here you are!" I declare. "All done. Is there anything else you would like me to do, Mr. Piece?"

For a moment, he just stares at me with a look so intense that I feel like he is trying to add a different meaning to my words.

"Miss Lucas," he says finally, reaching for the drawers under his desk and taking out another set of files. "Take these to the photocopier and make five copies of each. You'll find Pete downstairs. He is our resident person for this stuff."

As he pushes the files towards me, I glance at my watch.

"It's lunchtime, Mr. Drake."

"So?" He gets up from his seat and moves around his desk to come close to me. "As my assistant, your priority should be me, Miss Lucas. You're not like other employees here. It's not lunchtime for you."

He stops a foot away from me, staring me down with a slightly visible smile playing on his lips. He seems to be enjoying looking down at me from his tall height. I am 5'6 myself, which is taller than most girls I usually hang out with, but his looming height annoys me too much. It makes intimidating him without being intimidated harder.

"You..." I almost point a finger at him with the way my nerves flare at his ridiculous words, but I manage to hold my temper down.

He is doing it to piss me off. Just that. No worries.

"Yes, Mr. Drake..." I smile instead. "I understand. I'll get them done right now."

The notorious man remains unfazed as he gives me a nod. "I'll be waiting, Miss Lucas."

***

I don't find Pete at his station and have to wait for fifteen minutes with a growling stomach before I spot a middle-aged man with a bald head walking toward me at a hurried pace. Behind him, two other women follow, and they mutter something excitedly to each other.

"Miss Lucas...sorry to have made you wait. I went for lunch," the man, Pete I guess, says with panting breaths.

"No problem. It hasn't been long since I arrived. Can you make me five copies of these files for Mr. Drake? He needs them urgently."

"Yes, yes. Doing it right now."

He takes the files from me and disappears towards his cubicle. As I take a seat outside in a chair, I see the two women who followed Pete stride forward.

"Excuse me?"

I look up to find one ginger-haired head and one brunette-haired woman looking over me with huge smiles on their faces. They are both pretty and look about my age. One of them, the ginger head, is wearing a simple blouse and pants, while the other is dressed in a pink shirt and a black pencil skirt.

"Hello," I greet both of them with a smile.

"Oh my Gosh...you must be Cynthia. The new assistant, right? It's so good to meet you. My name's Tracy, and this is Linda."

The ginger head named Tracy extends her hand for me to shake, and I take it cheerfully.

"Nice to meet you."

I shake both of their hands, and they take the two seats on either side of me, and then turn to their sides to face me. I find myself looking between the two awkwardly, waiting for them to say something.

"So Cynthia...Can I call you Cynthia?" Linda asks with a shy smile.

"Yes, sure. That's what everyone calls me," I reply.

"Okay, so...Cynthia, we don't mean to annoy you, but it's basically mine and Tracy's duty to welcome all of Mr. Drake's assistants personally to the office and ask them how they are finding the environment. It's nothing formal. Just candid talk, and we have been looking for you everywhere!"

"Oh, is it?"

"Yes," Tracy interrupts excitedly. "Do tell us how you're finding your first day. Did Mr. Drake give you lots of work? Was he rude to you, too? Did you find him tolerable?"

"Did you find him handsome?" Linda adds.

"Uh...he's tolerable," I lie to them, finding their way of questioning too funny to answer with truths. "You said all of Mr. Drake's assistants. How many have there been?"

Linda and Tracy exchange a worrisome look as if they are debating telling me the truth before turning to me with fallen smiles.

"You're the twenty-first in these two months," Linda answers.

My jaw drops at the statement. "There have been twenty assistants before me?"

"Just the narrow count. He has been running this company for eight years. You can do the calculations."

"Oh my God! Why? What happened to the rest?"

Tracy reaches over and grabs my hand, squeezing it with a sad look.

"We don't talk about them, Cynthia."

The look on her face is so mournful that I can't help but ask.

"Did he eat them?"

Tracy and Linds both wince and look at each other. For a second, I think I said something wrong, but soon they burst out laughing.

"Oh, Cynthia! You're hilarious!" Linda snorts, slapping my arm playfully.

I wasn't joking at all, so their laughter kind of surprises me. I chuckle too, to hide the fact that I have no idea why they thought my words to be funny. I swear, no one thinks I am funny.

Mr. Drake does looks like someone who could chew you whole and then spit your dreams and aspirations out if they don't taste good.

"Oh my God!" Tracy suddenly exclaims. "I love you. You're different from his other assistants. You actually have claws. Would you use them on him?"

"I don't know..." I drawl out. "As I said, I found him tolerable. We'll see if this works out."

"Well, if he fires you, always remember that you'll have a club exclusive to all of Mr. Drake's assistants run by the two of us. You're welcome to join anytime."

"Really? What do you guys do?"

"We hear the other assistants rant about the boss." Tracy claps her hands in a terrifying gesture of uncontrolled happiness. "It's so much fun. Do join us, Cynthia. We would love your input on stuff."

"Yes." It is Linda's turn to grab my hand now as she leans in. "Do join in. We have meetings every Friday night and Sunday mornings at Tracy's house. We have a set of rules which we will share with you when you join, and we also have dress codes and tea time! It's so much fun. Please join."

I bite back the laughter that starts to threaten my lungs at the excitement in their voices as they invite me.

"Sure. I'll think about it," I say, and they both grin at me.

"We'll be looking forward to you joining us, Cynthia."

Just then, Pete comes back with the files and a set of sheets. I get up from my chair and rush towards him as he hands me the stuff.

"I hope it's all right, Miss Lucas. Sorry for the tardiness."

"It's fine, Pete. Thank you."

"See you later, Cynthia!" Linda waves at me, and I wave back before starting to run.

My feet are fast as they carry me to the elevators, and then I press the button for Mr. Drake's floor. Once the elevator stops, I step out and run towards the glass doors, and they open to let me in after I use my card. An older lady looks up from her counter straight ahead, and the color seems to drain from her face for some reason when she sees me.

"Miss Lucas...I don't think you should..."

Her slow trail of words finds its way to silence as I push open the door to Mr. Drake's office.

"Mr. Drake, here are your...holy cow!" The startled cry leaves my mouth abruptly when my eyes fall on Mr. Drake.

He is sitting behind his desk with his suit missing, hair messy, and shirt open, displaying his bare chest, as a naked, black-haired woman sits on his lap and they both stare at me in pure mortification.

The woman on top of me, my one-night stand, Leena, keeps moving over my covered cock, which is no longer hard because I am looking at my PA, whose brown pupils expand as she takes in the sight before her. As if this day couldn't have been more embarrassing, I have finally reached my last straw.

"Oh, God!" Cynthia drops the files and sheets of paper she was holding as her hand slaps over her mouth.

She shakes her head, shutting her eyes, and before I can find something to say, she turns back and runs after slamming the door shut behind her.

"Fucking hell!" I growl, lifting the woman over me by her arms and gently placing her on the floor.

As I get up, I see her round face staring at me with small eyes decorated with winged eyeliner.

"Ethan, what's wrong?" she asks, stepping toward me as I pick up my suit. "Let's continue, baby."

The voice that had once sounded sweet to me now annoys me. After I am done putting back my suit, I move to face her. She is grinning at me, blinking with bright eyes. She places her palms over my chest, gazing at me lustfully.

"Leena..." I sigh, pushing her hands away from me. "I told you it would just be a one-night stand. You're a beautiful woman, but I am not the man for you."

"But you left your calling card!" she protests.

I can already see the tears forming in her eyes, and that sends a pinch of regret to my chest.

"I didn't leave it, Leena. It dropped from my wallet. I'm sorry if you thought something else, but you and I..." I point to the space between us. "We just can't happen."

She looks at me in disbelief. Her naked body is not turning me on for the first time. Don't get me wrong. She is super hot, but right now, my mind is occupied by a very new employee who seems to be doing the turns in my head—the said employee being someone I cannot approach for sexual relations at all. That fact is just pissing me off further.

"I hate you!" Leena hisses.

She huffs, bending down and picking up her underwear and dress. While I watch the door, she moves behind me and puts on her clothes. I form my hands into fists, my body going desperate with each passing second as I wait for her to finish covering herself.

When I hear the sound of her zipper sliding, I find myself facing her again. She keeps her frown in place as she ignores me and moves ahead. After picking up her purse from the desk, Leena walks to the door, but she stops short while opening it. She turns to me and lifts her middle finger to give me the fuck.

"You're an asshole, Drake. I hope you stay celibate for life."

She moves her ass in an obscene gesture and is out the door without bothering to reply.

As curses go, that might be the worst thing someone has ever said to me.

"Damn..." I rub my face as I wait for the door to open and for Cynthia to walk back in.

If she were standing outside, she must have seen Leena leave. I lean a hip against my desk and wait. When time passes, and she doesn't come, I am forced to give up my wait and walk towards the door myself.

Outside, I don't see her anywhere. From behind her desk, Martha glares at me when she sees me walking toward her.

"Where's my assistant?" I place a hand over her counter, giving her a no-nonsense look.

Martha pushes her glasses up her nose. "You mean the assistant you just scared to death. What were you thinking, Drake?"

If it were someone else instead of Martha, the informal way of her addressing me would have immediately resulted in the person being fired, but Martha is Martha. She has been working with us since my Dad was the boss, followed by my Mom. She has known me since my childhood, and her addressing me informally has only ever ended up making me feel absolutely ridiculous about myself.

"Where is she?" I scowl.

"She went that way..." She points towards the conference room behind her. "If you're lucky, which I hope you aren't, you may find her not puking."

"Thanks," I mutter as I round past her towards the conference room.

As soon as I turn the knob, I hear a feminine gasp from inside. Cynthia is standing with her back to the screen, her eyes widened when she sees me entering the space. While I shut the door behind me, I quickly realize that we are the only ones inside, which thankfully means she hasn't passed the news on to anyone.

The conference room is occupied by a large, round table in the middle with chairs surrounding it and a projector screen at the other end. The room is dark, illuminated only by the blue light of the projector, and it bathes her in a neon glow.

"Mr. Drake!" she exclaims. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were..."

"No, that's not your fault," I tell her while moving toward her. She moves a step back when we are face to face with the blue light now illuminating us both in the darkened room. "You shouldn't have seen that. It wasn't ethical of me. If you want, you can file a report against me with HR. I would understand."

"I can?"

Her question takes me by surprise. Gone is the panicked look on her face as she blinks at me with twinkling eyes.

Fuck! Why did I say that? I completely forgot that this girl has nothing but bad opinions about me.

"You can but..."

"But...there is a but..." She folds her arms over her chest, raising a finely shaped eyebrow for me.

For someone who claims to be poor, she sure does put a lot of effort into her appearance.

"There's always a but, Miss Lucas." I give her a stoic look, shoving my hands inside the pockets of my dress pants. "You may take it to HR, but I don't think they would bother with it since it was an honest mistake on my part. I didn't intend to make you uncomfortable."

"So you just happen to fuck random women in your office?"

I feel the tick in my jaw as the sly smirk on her lips becomes visible.

"No, Miss Lucas...they aren't usually this random. Sometimes I even fuck women I have known for a few days," I throw back at her. "My resume has been very satisfactory on that part, according to the said woman."

"Oh, really?" If it isn't an illusion of the light, I think she has moved a little closer. She is now leaning against the table, eyeing me sideways. "I sincerely hope you never extended that routine to your employees, Mr. Drake. The HR sure would have a say on that matter."

"Why?" I take a step towards her, erasing the space between us by a few inches. "Would you like to try, Miss Lucas? I assure you, you would be the first."

Unlike some women, who might have taken that offer in awe, Cynthia appears almost prepared for my words. Her expression remains unbothered, her eyes scanning my face. With her back towards the projector, the blue light doesn't fall on her face anymore, but that only makes me see that she glows on her own.

It is not just her face. It is her personality I am becoming attracted to. I haven't had someone who challenges me with that intensity for a long time, and Cynthia Lucas provides a rather convenient distraction.

"Are you that confident about yourself, Mr. Drake?"

"Am I, Miss Lucas? You tell me."

She tilts her head as if she is studying me very minutely. The action makes the blue light fall on one side of her face, making the skin glow so tenderly that a vision of tracing her delicate throat with my tongue gets my mind. I fist my hands inside my pockets, fighting the urge to do the same.

"Nah..." She straightens back, shrugging her shoulders. "I'll pass."

I know she is kidding, but God, that feels like a blow to my ego. That's not what I wanted to be blown away today. My mind was a little more south.

No, I wasn't thinking of Miss Lucas's lips on my cock at all.

Absolutely not!

I wipe the nervousness off me, replacing it with my usual hard features.

"Do what you want to do, Miss Lucas, but I warn you..." I move further close until her chest is softly brushing against my own, and she is craning her neck to look at me. "You might have gotten the upper hand on me today due to that act, but you won't have the opportunity again. I won't let you escape me so easily."

"And what if I still do?" she remarks with the same strength in her words.

A corner of my lips tugs up, forcing me to fight hard to maintain my straight face.

"Then I'll find you, Miss Lucas. I'll find you and bring you back because you aren't going anywhere," I say, stressing my words.

The space between us burns hotter. She parts her lips, her legs moving just a fraction against mine. We are so close that we could be touching any moment, but we won't. The scales have equal weight on both sides this time.

"Mr. Drake..." she exhales. "I won't report anything to HR."

I smile at her statement, a hand sliding out of my pocket to reach for her. I pinch her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tip it up, exposing her sexy throat as a feast for my eyes. She sucks in a breath as I lean forward until my mouth brushes against her earlobe.

"Good girl."